Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Reviews

Skip Beat! Vol. 39

by

Skip Beat! Volume 39 by Yoshiki Nakamura

This shortish storyline dealing with Kyoko’s mother is one of my least favorite Skip Beat! episodes, perhaps because Nakamura is so good at portraying Saena as cold and distant in a way that would damage anyone’s psyche, that the efforts to humanize her by detailing the events that led up to her abandonment of her daughter still fall short of making her a character that I feel any sympathy for. But part of what makes Skip Beat! so entertaining for so long is the way many of the characters have been emotionally damaged in different ways, and there’s no easy fix for getting over trauma.

As Kyoko progresses through the series it is fascinating to see how her reactions to setbacks both change and stay the same, but the end result is that she becomes a stronger person. Kyoko’s control and composure when confronting her mother demonstrates how much more resilient she’s become, and her response to the encounter is to dedicate herself to becoming successful with her own goals.

One of the reasons why I like Skip Beat! so much is that Ren Tsuruga often is placed in what is sometimes a more feminine position for shoujo manga tropes. In this volume in particular, he’s left waiting and worrying about a terse text from Kyoko, and he ends up pretending to casually drop by to check on her. Patient waiting is the best way to deal with Kyoko when she’s still so emotionally fragile, but it’ll be interesting to see what happens when they are both ready for a relationship.

While Kyoko has come pretty far, it is clear that maintaining her rage at Sho is her safe space. I don’t think that it is a coincidence that after the confrontation with her mother, she ends up in a confrontation with Sho. Seeing how gently Kyoko and Ren interact with each other is certainly a big contrast to all the yelling and shin kicks that occurs when Kyoko and Sho are in the same room. As the volume seems to be setting up another acting challenge for Kyoko, I’m looking forward to seeing what she is able to accomplish next with all the emotional turmoil behind her.

Cosplay Animal, Vol. 1

by

By Watari Sakou. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Dessert. Released in North America digitally by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Rose Padgett.

Of of the more encyclopedia manga reference sites out there, Baka-Updates, has its listings of manga divided into tags, and I’ve frequently found myself looking at the work of a specific author or genre and wondering which tags were commonly used. In addition to the obvious ‘shonen’, ‘shoujo’, etc, there are things like ‘love triangle’, ‘strong female lead’, etc. And a lot of the shoujo titles tend to have the word ‘smut’ attached to them. These are the shoujo titles that run in order-skewing magazines like Sho-Comi or Dessert where the relationship expands to include sex fairly rapidly, and includes it often. A few years back you’d never have seen these sorts of titles over here, but now we have a certain number of them, mostly from Viz; Ai Ore, Butterflies Flowers, and the like. That said, while I have seen young women surrendering to passion, driven by their desires, and having a grand old time in these books, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a heroine quite as horny as Rika in Cosplay Animal.

Rika is a college girl with a fetish for costumes, particularly school uniforms – and I mean fetish, we hear over and over again about how much it turns her on. One day she posts to a hookup site and starts talking with a high school boy who’s having relationship issues, and as they talk she texts a picture of her in her old school uniform. She decides to go see him, and finds that not only is he super hot, he also works as a waiter – another uniform! Of course, at first he thinks she’s a high school girl. Then, when he finds out the truth, he finds her fetish a bit lame. But eventually they work things out, and now Rika is dating a guy who will not only agree to have sex with her in a uniform, but can give her multiple orgasms. The end! Only, of course, not the end.

This volume has only Cosplay Animal’s first-chapter, which is clearly a one-shot, and its one-chapter sequel, also clearly meant to be a one-shot. Something about the series made the editors reward it with a longer run, and I’m pretty sure it’s Rika, who is simply straight up ridiculous. The series verges on being completely horrible but it isn’t quite, and what makes it compulsively readable is that Rika really is that over the top – if she were a more realistic, emotionally fragile young shoujo heroine this would be tasteless. As it is you can’t even get offended because of the silliness. That said, the manga cannot sustain this pace forever, and I can’t help but notice that it ran for 14 volumes. Something is going to have to give to fill up that space. I hope the character development is just as whacked out as the start was.

There are also three unrelated short stories at the end of this, which in fact take up more room in the volume than the main series. Cockblocked! is memorable mostly for the title, and features a girl trying to have sex with her older tutor but having difficulties due to a past family trauma. Servants of the Flesh deals with two young people in different schools, one male, one female, who have the same reaction to being called ignorant virgins a while back – to learn EVERYTHING IT IS POSSIBLE TO KNOW ABOUT SEX. Of course, they are still virgins. Sparks fly when they meet each other trying to help a friend at each of their respective schools, and end up being super hot once they both take their giant nerd glasses off. Again, it’s the sheer ludicrousness that makes the short work, though it gets buried in sex info because of the leads. The Touch of an Angel, the Kiss of a Devil is the most ‘normal’ story in the book, and therefore the dullest. I wonder if it was the author’s first, it seems so generic.

Cosplay Animal is a fun manga to read, but be warned: do not have any expectations of it being anything other than pervy shoujo froth. If that’s what you’re looking for, Rika is here for you.

My Big Sister Lives in a Fantasy World: The Strongest Little Brother’s Commonplace Encounters with the Bizarre?!

by

By Tsuyoshi Fujitaka and An2A. Released in Japan as “Neechan wa Chuunibyou” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Elizabeth Ellis.

Well, we’ve reached the 5th volume, which is usually around when a lot of light novel series decide to give us a series of interconnected short stories, and that’s the case here, as our heroes’ club advisor (who is the villain from the prior book, returned to be a counselor for Yuichi for reasons I won’t bother to get into as they’re stupid) explains that the other villains will probably have a rest period before they try to attack again and restart the main plot. Of course, Yuichi is who he is, so this doesn’t mean that his life becomes a normal romantic school comedy. Every week brings a fresh new series of supernatural things for him to punch, rivals to take down, and girls to rescue. Why? Well, because he is who he is, trained by his older sister.

As I’ve discovered with a lot of these short story books, the rule of thumb is that the longer the story, the better it is. This means the book gets better as it goes along, as the final two stories are definitely the longest and best. But it also means you start by wading through a lot of drek. The first story (and connected prologue) attempts to show us that Kanako and her writing career is still relevant to the plot, but I’m fairly sure that’s not the case – mostly it’s there to make fun of light novels. We then get a story of a yokai who tries to seduce men, but looks like a little girl, which at least keeps the lolicon jokes down to a mere 2-3 per page, but is otherwise meh. The third story introduces a friend/lackey of Mutsuko, who has new powers she wants to test on Yuichi. The main thrust of the story is that the girl is very fat, which Yuichi seeks to remind us of constantly. I was more amused by her constantly slipping into different types of over the top speech patterns – it reminded me of the otaku from Oregairu, and distracted me from the endless fat comments. The other yokai stories are so dull I’ve already forgotten them.

The last two stories, though, are decent, and help to make the book at least get a low passing grade. The story with Yoriko attracting the attention of a delinquent, and then a yakuza with a thousand men at his command, is merely an excuse to see how ridiculous things can get, which honestly is why I read this series in the first place, so I was quite pleased – they got very ridiculous. Also, their mother is Kasumi Tendo – I was very disappointed she didn’t say “Ara, ara”. The final story deals with spirits, and whether Yuichi can punch them with his manly fists of justice (answer: of course he can). It’s more of a hodgepodge than the previous story, seeming content to throw plot ingredients into a nabe pot and see what comes out, but it was also fun, even if the ending was slightly predictable (I say slightly only because I guessed the wrong ghost).

The cliffhanger may be the most interesting part of the book (which doesn’t speak well of it), seeming to introduce Yuichi’s next major foe, a protagonist from a different world who honestly reminds me of the hero from Little Apocalypse. (Boy, wouldn’t that be a crossover?) Also, don’t think I didn’t notice Natsuki simply vanishing midway through the book. We’ve only got two more to go in this series, so keep reading if you’re a fan. Otherwise, skip it.

Queen Emeraldas, Vol. 2

by

By Leiji Matsumoto. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Zack Davisson.

These Emeraldas stories we see in this second omnibus tend to be fairly stand-alone and separate from one another, connected only by the interlocking narration of our titular heroine – indeed, sometimes the narration gets so interlocking it’s hard to tell when the chapter breaks are, which I’ve no doubt is somewhat on purpose. This is a long, endless journey through space. There’s no real destination, there’s no particular character development – Emeraldas is who she was at the start, and Hiroshi Umino may be hiding his identity behind a fake name, but is still essentially the same as well. So what you get in this volume is the delight of the scenery along the way, with Matsumoto’s sparse yet compelling art portraying a vision of space that its readers long to visit, even though they know that, since they aren’t Emeraldas, it’s likely they’ll end up as dead as most of the people in this book.

If you’re wondering where this takes place in the Harlock/Emeraldas/GE999 canon, the answer is “slightly early”, as we get a few shots here of Emeraldas observing (and really, that’s pretty much all she does) a short, teeth-filled man who faithful readers know is Tochiro, who will eventually be the love of her life. For the moment, though, the reader merely observes him dealing with life in a very Wild West-influenced outer space – much as Emeraldas is a grand Wagnerian opera, there’s also a large chunk of Hollywood Western to it as well. Of course, we’re not actually telling the story of Tochiro and Emeraldas yet, so which they interact, they eventually move on, just as everyone else does. Emeraldas is an anthology, and as such rarely stops to take on backstory. Still, it’s great to see him.

The series ends with a few short stories. The second one feels very much like the rest of the book, and is quite poignant. The first one… does not. I’m sure that in a collector’s sense the Matsumoto fan is delighted with its presence in this book, if only for the sake of completeness. As someone who’s read the rest of the series, however, the story of Emeraldas and her goofy female pirate crew running into Harlock and his male crew in an effort to find a treasure map feels like finishing off dinner at a 5-star restaurant with a bag of Doritos. I’m not sure if this story came out well before the rest of the book – I’ve been burned saying things like that before. But it FEELS like an earlier work, and while it’s quite funny in places, and it’s nice to see Harlock, I found its presence in the end simply jarring.

But that does not take away from the grandeur of the main work, and it’s been a treat reading Queen Emeraldas in English. It’s even more of a treat knowing that more is coming, as we have Harlocks both new and classic in the near future. Can a Galaxy Express 999 re-release be far away? (OK, probably, yes, it can.) In any event, classic manga lovers, fans of space opera, or even pirate kids will greatly enjoy this series. Long may she sail through the stars, narrating gravely as she goes.

Paying to Win in a VRMMO, Vol. 4

by

By Blitz Kiva and Kuwashima Rein. Released in Japan as “VRMMO wo Kane no Chikara de Musou suru” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Elizabeth Ellis.

Despite the fact that everything I either wanted or predicted would happen in my previous reviews turned out to be wrong, this ended up being probably the strongest volume in this series to date. Once again Ichiro is somewhat sidelined, this time by design – both parties have asked him to stay out of their design battle, which he does. In addition, I had predicted doom if Nem ever met Iris in real life – and lo and behold, that happens right at the beginning of the book. It’s OK, though, because this book ends up being a bit of a character piece, looking deeply at the life of a rich woman with tremendous talent but few friends or social skills, and a bipolar teenager (she says so herself, I might add) with a lot of drive and slightly more friends and social skills, but far less talent and likely headed for burnout.

The parts devoted to Nem are quite good, if a tad predictable, and I appreciate that she has the self-restraint to crush Iris in the game rather than Airi Kakitsubata in real life. As for Iris, I’m starting to see why the author mentions fans after the first volume wondering where she was. She’s such a car wreck in action, with astounding highs and devastating lows, that everyone around her defines her mood swings as her most well-known trait. I also appreciated the narrative acknowledging that as she is, she likely doesn’t have what it takes to make it as a designer – that may change now that she’s friends with Megumi, but even Ichiro admits that she falls short on the talent side. (Speaking of design, I appreciate the detail that these books go into showing off the careers of Iris and Megumi and what goes into creating custom fashion – there’s a lot of little anecdotes that help the whole thing feel more realistic.) And best of all, Iris still isn’t remotely showing signs of falling for Ichiro. I love that she still regards him as really annoying more than anything else.

The battle itself is closer than you’d expect, but Nem is a newbie to the world of NaroFan, while Iris is more familiar with “how would a gamer react” rather than “how would a normal human react”, so she comes very close, though in order to do so she does end up humiliating Sakurako, whose new character ends up being exposed a bit too much for her comfort. (There are also a few lines where Iris mocks the “old” Megumi, and Megumi and Sakurako’s reactions make me wonder if the author was poking at his editors for saying that the light novel reader hates women over 25.) Even Felicia is getting development, showing that she’s ready to break away from her cousin and achieve great things on her own in the game, something which ironically finally garners praise from him that she’d long coveted.

As I said, the only one who seemed to stay exactly the same is Ichiro, though you might argue that for once he appreciated his tactlessness a bit more than usual. Still, the cliffhanger leading to the next book seems to indicate that we’ll see more of him in it. The series is only six volumes long, so I’m quite happy to see what happens next. I wasn’t even as irritated by Ichiro this time around as I normally am, although that could also be a flaw in the work, given who he is.

She and Her Cat

by

By Makoto Shinkai and Tsubasa Yamaguchi. Released in Japan as “Kanojo to Kanojo no Neko” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Afternoon. Released in North America by Vertical Comics. Translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian.

The first thing that occurred to me after I finished She and Her Cat was that I felt that it would have been a much better book without the cat. I later changed my mind, but it has to be said that those who pick this up thinking it’s another cute animal book like Chi’s Sweet Home will be brutally disappointed. The cat exhibits some signs of cleverness in it, but is pretty much just a cat in the end, and the relationship with a kitten is the weakest part of the volume. That said, the volume is still absolutely worth getting because of the titular She, an office lady named Miyu who lives in her apartment with her cat and her regrets, possibly not in that order. Her life is laid out for us by Makoto Shinkai, who apparently created this in 1999 as a 5-minute animation and then expanded on it with both this manga and another anime series.

The reason I came to appreciate the cat is the way that the cat is also serving as the eyes of the reader… but because it’s a cat, doesn’t really understand much from Miyu other than surface emotions such as depression, exhaustion, or happiness. We understand more as a reader, having lived through similar moments in our lives, but the empathy comes from seeing Miyu’s life in miniature, rather than through any monologue that she has. There are a few scenes we see without the cat, and they are conveyed normally through dialogue – the only way we see into Miyu’s head is via either the words she says or the cat’s thoughts. She starts off cheery if harried, then suffers through a deep depression as things at work go sour and she’s reminded that her other friends have married by now.

Because this was written by Makoto Shinkai, I was uncertain if it was going to have a happy ending or not. But he specializes more in bittersweet than anything else, so though Miyu may entertain suicidal thoughts while under the bridge towards the end, things mostly work out thanks to a Neko Ex Machina. I like the fact that we end with her life swinging back up again, doing a lot better at work, and rejecting the proposal of a co-worker because she doesn’t love him, rather than because getting married is what she has to do now. Miyu finds being an adult as hard as the rest of us do, but she’s muddling through with the help of her cat, and I think it’s very inspiring to those who deal with feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. And of course there are also scenes of Miyu playing with her cat, rest assured.

For fans of Makoto Shinkai, this is an obvious buy. I’d also recommend it for those who find themselves muddling through the day somehow, and wondering if it’s OK to be living like this. Even if the reader doesn’t have a cat, they may find an answer here anyway. (Also, why don’t you have a cat? Cats are awesome!)

One Piece, Vol. 83

by

By Eiichiro Oda. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Shonen Jump. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by Stephen Paul.

One of the most obvious things that a reader will pick up on when reading any given volume of One Piece is how much fun Oda must have while creating it. Jump manga in general is very good at showing off the author’s joie de vivre, but Oda in particular makes you think of the title as a giant rollercoaster of pure wow. In particular in this volume, the scenes in the Seducing Woods are amazing, being a combination of childhood dreams of everything being alive and talking to you (including all the sweets you eat), and the horror of everything being alive and talking to you, INCLUDING THE SWEETS YOU EAT. The revelation of how the woods, animals, and everything in Big Mom’s world speak is mind-numbingly horrific, but Oda breezes right by it, content to give us more running around and punching things as a distraction. It works, but in lesser hands this would have been tonally deaf.

Luffy and company are still trying to rescue Sanji, of course, but the woods keep them busy most of the volume, so we’re not there yet. Sanji is not having a good time, though. The rest of his family has arrived, including his father, who is a nasty guy whose skills are also equal to his son, it would seem. Once again, you get the feeling that Sanji could really do some damage if he’d only take the limiters off himself – usually it’s “I won’t fight women”, but here it’s “I’ll never fight using my hands” that’s his handicap, and it’s why he now is wearing exploding handcuffs. There is genuine sadness here as well, though, as we see Sanji’s abusive childhood, and realize why he would much rather think of Zeff as his father figure than this guy who’s willing to barter his “useless” son for political gain.

As for the fights, well, Luffy gets most of the action, as usual, though Nami fares better than she normally has in recent times, using her new Climatact with gusto. The big trump card, though, turns out to be the vivre card she got from Lola back in the Thriller Bark arc – Lola, it turns out, being one of Big Mom’s endless children. I always love it when One Piece manages to tie in a plot point that happened years and years ago, though it does require the reader to be well versed in the lore. She and Luffy also bounce off each other very well – there’s no romance in One Piece, of course, but I can’t imagine LuNa shippers being too upset with what they get here. Carrot and Chopper fare less well, though there are hints that they will be more proactive in the next arc.

Wilol Luffy and company get to Sanji? Will they even meet up with Brook and Pedro, who were the advance guard? And what of Charlotte Pudding, Sanji’s bride, who likes him well enough but seems perfectly willing to let Luffy rescue him. And of course, given Big Mom is one of the Four Emperors, it’s not going to be all that simple, especially given that she can destroy whole towns when she gets hungry. My guess is this arc has a long way to go before it ends. Luckily, it’s One Piece, so we will always be entertained.

In Another World with My Smartphone, Vol. 4

by

By Patora Fuyuhara and Eiji Usatsuka. Released in Japan as “Isekai wa Smartphone to Tomo ni” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Andrew Hodgson.

Our little smartphone novel has grown up to a degree, and it’s something I view with very mixed feelings. Sure, we still have the occasional plotline that is just “Touya and friends lackadaisically do relaxing things’, but I can’t really call this a pure and innocent isekai anymore. It’s reached puberty and is trying to act up. Oh, rest assured, there’s no actual sex or anything. That would require losing an audience that the author is not prepared to lose. But Touya just seems a bit more cynical in his dealings with things, and he’s thinking about women a lot more than he did (though not quite to the extent of that short story in Vol. 2). On the bright side, the villains all still clearly delineate themselves into ‘evil’ and ‘SUPER evil’, so we don’t risk sympathizing with them at all then Touya destroys them. Rest assured, that will never change.

Yes, that’s right, there’s a new girl on the cover, and a new addition to the harem, though I’m amused that Touya describes his four fiancees as his “core team”. Lu is a princess of a neighboring kingdom, and personality-wise is very shy and blushy, similar to Shinobu from Love Hina. As we meet her, her kingdom is on the verge of a military takeover, with the general of the kingdom deposing the emperor and taking power with the help of a summoned demon adn some artifacts that make him almost invincible. That said, Touya barely reacts to this challenge, figuring out fairly quickly how to deal with him, though I’m not sure it’s a method he’ll ever use again. As a result the emperor is back on the throne, and Touya gets a very willing Lu as a reward, though he once again pleads for everyone to wait till he turns 18. (Yumina and Lu’s fathers plotting to use Touya politically is one of the best parts of the book, as Touya is always at his best when thrown off from his usual blandness.)

Elsewhere, Touya rescues a group of slaves and frees them up to become employees of the bookstore/cafe he creates, which ends up turning into a far-too-long joke about all the women in the entire kingdom being fujoshi (this was OK), and Touya thinking “no homo no homo!” about 865 times (this was not). We also resolve the ‘surely she’s a long lost noble’ plotline involving Renne, the runaway girl Touya took in as a maid in an earlier volume. Surprise! She’s a noble whose now-dead mother ran away from her family to marry an adventurer. This is also not as funny as the author would like, relying on a lot of jokes about Renne’s aunt Carol being a Christmas Cake. Oh yes, and the obnoxious nobles in Yumina’s own kingdom show up again, this time with a murder plot that will attempt to implicate Touya so that they can have their son marry and rape Yumina, possibly not in that order. When Touya hears about this, his response is… impressive, if a bit shocking. It seems out of character given he’s so mild-mannered, but given the circumstances I can’t blame him. Oh yes, and he’s awarded his own (tiny) kingdom, and builds a castle to go with it.

Overall this was a highly variable volume of Smartphone, which can’t simply rely on pure charm anymore and is therefore trying to decide what to do next. It works best when not crawling through the drudgery of anime cliches like “she’s angry people think she’s old” or “everything thinks he’s gay”. I’m still interested in the series, but honestly, I would not blame those who were having light, breezy fun with it for stopping here.

Also, he names his attack griffons John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Because of course he does.

Attack on Titan, Vol. 22

by

By Hajime Isayama. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Ko Ransom.

“Tragic backstory intensifies” would be a good description of this volume, for the most part. Eren continues to have dreams that flash back to his father’s life before he was born, showing us the fate of Grisha’s first wife (she appeared in the story earlier than we think, it turns out!) and what our kingdom really is – an island kingdom, with most of the world very much not dead on the other side of the ocean. We also, as predicted, see Eren and Mikasa in jail for the orders they disobeyed in the previous couple of books, though that doesn’t last, mostly due to how important Eren really is. Oh yes, and much to Mikasa’s horror, we get a time limit on the Titans’ lives – they only live for 13 years after being titan-ized, meaning that we also get another major character death, though this one is offscreen.

Yes, in fine lesbian character tradition, Ymir writes a farewell note to Historia that confirms that a) she wanted to live the rest of her life married to her, but b) she can’t as she’s soon going to be dead. After Eren’s revelations, it’s pretty clear that this is meant to be due to simply living out that 13 year span rather than due to being executed. Reiner, at least, lets her write said farewell letter, though I wish we’d been able to see more of Historia’s reaction. I suppose it was unbecoming of a queen. So no happy ending for Ymir, though at least she doesn’t seem to have been killed off just for being gay. As for Mikasa, I’ve pretty much written off any hope of her character revolving around anything other than Eren, so her stunned disbelief through most of this is unsurprising. Not sure if they’ll find a way to stop Eren and Armin from dying. I could see it going either way.

There’s also more arguing over whether it was the right thing to save Armin or not – I suspect this may have been an argument that Isayama and some of his editors may have had as well. I wish that it had been one of the regulars allowed to take an opposing side, rather than generic military police guy, who is there to remind Hitch that Marlowe likely died terrified and to yell at everyone else, so immediately turns into one of my least favorite characters. I think it would have had more impact if it was a more familiar face on the Erwin side, though. In any case, however, we jump forward a bit and see the Survey Corps confirming what they’d found out from Grisha – that this is an island, and that there is ocean at the end of it. This leads to possibly the only really heartwarming scene in the book, with the members of Levi’s unit cheerfully splashing in the surf (though not in swimsuits – we can’t rewrite reality that much).

I didn’t see an “End of Part Two” at the finale of this volume, but it certainly felt like it. We’ve gotten a lot of our answers, but what comes next? In any case, Titan fans should enjoy this volume, though likely they will get frustrated with it as well. But we should all be used to that.

Yona of the Dawn Vol. 7

by

Yona of the Dawn Volume 7 by Mizuho Kusanagi

I knew when I first picked up Yona of the Dawn that the reader would eventually be getting awesome archery moments, but it has been quite a road getting there. Yona has been evolving into an action heroine for the previous six volumes and this is finally where all her practice sessions pay off, as Yona’s team along with benevolent pirates manages to stop some horrible human trafficking.

Yona and Yun manage to break away from the other captives and signal for help, but not before Yona endures some intense and scary moments. But when she finally gets a bow in her hands she assumes an intimidating power, suddenly her captors find themselves frightened by a girl they were dismissing casually just a few minutes before. The first chapter of this volume had some wonderful action moments, like when the Green Dragon swoops in to answer Yona’s summons at just the right moment. But one of the things that sets this manga apart from typical shoujo fare is that Yona ends up with the most heroic moments of the whole battle instead of her male companions. She comes into her own in a dramatic fashion, assuming a power and authority that the reader hasn’t seen before. It isn’t any of her companions who end up taking out Kum-Ji who is terrorizing the seaside town, it is Yona herself. I was struck by Kusanagi’s facility with facial expressions in this volume especially, as Yona shifts from righteous anger to resignation at having to take a human life.

I love the way this series focuses on the emotional connections between the characters as well. Yona has a chance encounter with Su-Won, and Hak is there to deal with the aftermath. Saying goodbye to the Pirate Captain is emotional both for the Green Dragon and Yona, and I have a feeling as the companions embark on their next adventure, they’ll be able to deal with whatever crisis they may encounter due to the strong bonds between them and Yona’s leadership. This is one of my favorite current series, Kusanagi always manages to pack in a ton of story and character development in each volume in a way that never seems forced.

Clockwork Planet, Vol. 1

by

By Yuu Kamiya, Tsubaki Himana, and Sino. Released in Japan by Kodansha. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by fofi.

Ugh. I hate the (2) that’s sitting in the URL up there. Why couldn’t this book have had a subtitle like some other light novels? In any case, as the URL shows, I’ve reviewed Clockwork Planet before: the first manga volume, which Kodansha Comics put out back in March. And now we have the light novel it was based on. When I had only mild enjoyment of the manga volume, I was told a few times that the light novel is significantly better. And indeed those people were right, as my enjoyment of the novel was significantly better – especially in regards to Marie, whose inner workings (so to speak) are a lot more explicit and sympathetic than they were in the parts of the manga I read. That said, you can definitely tell that a lot of this is written by Yuu Kamiya, the creator of No Game No Life. It has the same… flavor, so to speak.

The premise is that a socially ostracized boy with a REALLY acute sense of hearing has an automaton crash into his apartment one evening. This isn’t as odd as it seems, because as the name might imply, the Earth now runs on clockwork in order to stop its death. This particular automaton, however, is one of a very special series, and had in fact been dormant for the last two hundred years. Fortunately, Naoto is able to “hear” where the problem is and fix it, and now he has his very own robot girl, RyuZU, who is devoted to keeping him safe and happy and abusing him verbally, not in that order. (This is where the NGNL author’s fetishes come into play, as I mentioned above.) The other half of the plot involves genius teenage engineer Marie and her calm bodyguard/babysitter Halter, who is mostly a cyborg himself. They’re trying to fix a gravitational error that might destroy all of Kyoto. And then we discover that this error is, in fact, bpart of a VAST MILITARY CONSPIRACY!

As you may have gathered, subtlety is not on the menu for this book, but it’s a decent thriller, and I enjoyed the characters while finding them somewhat exasperating. Because this is written for a male Japanese audience, there is of course a large color picture of a naked loli girl in it, so as always this isn’t recommended for casual fans. But for Kamiya fans, or those who like “steampunk” type stories, it’s a lot of fun. The second half is definitely better than the first, as things swing into high and we show off what all of our heroes can do. And there’s a setup for future books, which we actually see a bit of in the prologue, as well as another robot girl that needs to be rescued from the government/military complex. Unlike a lot of “first volume” light novels that may or may not become series, this looks like it was designed to have more to it. Good thing we’re getting more. Recomme3nded.

Melody of Iron

by

Osamu Teuka hit rock bottom in 1973. Mushi Production, the animation studio he’d launched to great fanfare in 1961, had just declared bankruptcy. Although Tezuka had parted ways with Mushi in 1968, he was still linked to his old company in the public imagination — Mushi was, after all, the studio that had introduced Tetsuwan Atom to television viewers around the globe, and made Kimba the White Lion a household figure in Japan. Tezuka also faced a creative crisis: his work was out of step with emerging trends in what he called “young adult manga,” a point he plaintively addressed in the afterword to the 1974 short story collection Melody of Iron:

The media was whispering that I’d hit my wall… With a broken heart, but also rebellious determination, I blindly tackled magazine jobs …These are examples of my Young Adult Manga write during times when I was mentally hungry. There were many more. Ranging from pieces that were too dark and hopeless, to really harsh pieces that, in today’s day and age, would immediately receive protest from all sorts of organizations. All of my pieces then had really emotionless themes and I don’t remember enjoying writing most of them.

Manga publishers agreed with Tezuka’s glum self-assessment. In 1973, Weekly Shonen Champion offered Tezuka an opportunity to write a limited five-week series with the implicit assumption that Tezuka was publishing his final work. That series turned out to be the opening salvo in a new stage of Tezuka’s career, however, as Black Jack became one of Tezuka’s best-known, best-loved titles, a mixture of bold, expressive cartooning, crazy plot lines, and gut-punch endings all held together by one of the most memorable characters Tezuka ever created.

Not all of Tezuka’s work from the 1970s walks this melodramatic tightrope as effectively as Black Jack, a point underscored by Melody of Iron. The title story, for example, is a three-act mish-mash of gangster movie cliches and seventies pseudo-science. In the first act, a young man runs afoul of the mafia, ratting out one their assassins in court; as punishment, the Albanis cut off his arms and leave him to die. In the second act, Dan holes up in a mad scientist’s laboratory where he learns to use a set of psychokinetic prosthetic arms. And in the final act, Dan’s ability to harness PK proves a mixed blessing when the arms exact revenge against the Albanis… without him.

The finale exemplifies what’s good and bad about Tezuka’s crank-it-to-eleven approach. On the one hand, Tezuka has the cartooning chops to make the arms look sufficiently animated, a necessary condition for selling us on his Stephen King-meets-Mario Puzo concept. On the other hand, Tezuka’s own distinctive style works against the potential horror of the killer limbs; the arms aren’t menacing enough to be a convincing embodiment of Dan’s fierce anger, looking more like the Tin Man’s costume than instruments of death. The arms’ efficacy is further neutered by the staging of their grand murder spree, a string of over-the-top deaths that re-enact Dan’s initial humiliation in the most baldly literal fashion: look, Ma, no arms!

The story also stumbles in its efforts to depict American racial dynamics. Shortly after Dan’s bloody encounter with the Albani’s goons, for example, a mob of African American teenagers harasses Dan, pelting him with stones and mocking him for his missing arms. The way these characters are rendered — with thick lips and maliciously gleeful expressions — creates a profoundly uncomfortable moment for the modern Western reader, resurrecting the visual iconography of minstrel shows to dehumanize these unnamed teens. Dan is rescued by Birdie, a black Vietnam vet who counsels Dan to abandon his murderous plans. Birdie looks more recognizably human than the rock-throwing teens, but he’s more a construct than a character, a noble voice of reason whose primary purpose is to advance the plot by introducing Dan to the mad Dr. Macintosh.

The third strike against “Melody” — and, by extension, the entire anthology — is that the edgier content feels like a self-conscious effort to dress up the material in adult themes, rather than a vehicle for exploring the darker corners of the human psyche. This problem is most pronounced in “Revolution,” a short story about Yasue, a housewife who wakes up from a coma convinced that she’s a young radical named Minako Hotta. In an effort to prove to her husband that she is, in fact, Minako, Yasue describes Minako’s sexual encounters with a wounded revolutionary, explaining how Minako’s tender ministrations brought him back from death’s door. We’re clearly supposed to sympathize with Yasue’s husband — he’s disgusted by Yasue’s “memory” — but his boorish, violent behavior in previous scenes makes it hard for the reader to sympathize with his predicament. Worse still, Minako’s sacrifices are presented as a sign of her dedication to the cause, a notion so risible it seems more like a lame joke from Woody Allen’s Bananas than a credible character motivation.

As with Tezuka’s other work from the period, the principal characters in Melody of Iron are generically attractive types whose personalities emerge primarily through what they say, while the supporting cast members are vividly drawn caricatures whose personalities are established through how they look. Such visual shortcuts are a standard manga technique, of course, but in Tezuka’s hands these aesthetic decisions are effective since they’re rendered with flair and specificity; you know exactly what kind of person Dr. Macintosh is from the shape of his nose, the tousle of his hair, and the hunch of his shoulders. Tezuka also scatters a few Easter eggs through the collection, including a sequence modeled on The Godfather‘s iconic wedding scene, and a panel depicting Broadway’s signature jumble of lights and signs; look closely and you’ll see the names of several Tezuka titles gracing the marquees.

For all the flashes of imagination in Melody of Iron, however, Tezuka was onto something when he characterized his “young adult” stories as “less approachable” than his other work from the early 1970s. Even the most over-the-top scenes feel a little labored and dour, lacking the visual exuberance or emotional oomph that makes “Dingoes” and “Teratoid Cystoma” such memorable entries in the Black Jack canon. Readers looking for an introduction to Tezuka’s late work may find Melody of Iron a good point of entry, but anyone with dog-eared copies of Black Jack or Ode to Kirihito may be underwhelmed by this more workmanlike collection.

THE MELODY OF IRON • BY OSAMU TEZUKA • TRANSLATED BY ADAM SECORD • DIGITAL MANGA, INC. • RATED YOUNG ADULT (16+) FOR VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT • 214 pp.

A Small Charred Face

by

A Small Charred FaceAuthor: Kazuki Sakuraba
Translator: Jocelyne Allen
U.S. publisher: Viz Media
ISBN: 9781421595412
Released: September 2017
Original release: 2014

Kazuki Sakuraba is a fairly prolific author in Japan, having written numerous short stories, essays, and novels; sadly, only a small handful of those have been translated into English thus far. Although Sakuraba is probably best known as the creator of Gosick (which, I’ll admit, I still need to actually read), my introduction to her work was through Red Girls: The Legend of the Akakuhchibas, an award-winning, multi-generational epic which I thoroughly enjoyed. When Haikasoru, Viz Media’s speculative fiction imprint, announced that it would be releasing Sakuraba’s A Small Charred Face with a translation by Jocelyne Allen in 2017, I immediately took note. I was previously unaware of A Small Charred Face, originally published in Japan in 2014, and I’m not especially interested in vampire fiction, but with Sakuraba as the author, Haikasoru as the publisher and Allen as the translator–a winning combination with Red Girls–it instantly became something that I wanted to read.

The Japanese town in which Kyo lives is bathed in blood, a hotbed of organized crime, murder, and vice. With a population willing to avoid looking too closely at the surrounding bloodshed, resulting in a plentiful and readily accessible supply of food, it’s the perfect place for the Bamboo, vampiric creatures originating from the deep mountains of China, to secretly coexist with humans. Carnivorous grass monsters but human-like in appearance, the Bamboo are extremely powerful and resilient but vulnerable to sunlight, never age but are still mortal. Up until the point he meets one, Kyo was never quite sure if the stories he heard about the monstrous Bamboo were true or if they were just told to frighten children. Confronted with the immediacy of his own impending death while only ten years old, his mother and sister having already been killed by a group of hitmen, Kyo is unexpectedly rescued by a Bamboo. Mustah, impulsively acting in blatant disregard for the rules of his own kind by taking him in, saves Kyos’ life and in the process changes it forever. But even while Kyo, Mustah, and Mustah’s partner Bamboo Yoji form a peculiar, tightly-knit family, it will never be entirely safe from the dangers presented by humans or the Bamboo alike.

At its very core, A Small Charred Face is about the curious, complex, exhilarating, and often fraught relationships that evolve between Bamboo and humans. The novel is divided into three distinct parts–three tangentially related stories which can all be connected to Kyo and his personal experiences with the Bamboo. In some ways the stories are able to stand alone, but the references they contain make them more powerful when taken together as a whole. The first and longest section, “A Small Charred Face,” focuses on Kyo’s life with Mustah and Yoji. The two men are fascinated and enthralled by his humanity, at times treating him as something akin to a pet but also raising him as family while protecting him through his adolescence. To Kyo, Mustah and Yoji are his saviors, parents, and something even more which is difficult to define. The second part “I Came to Show You Real Flowers” serves as an epilogue of sorts to the first, following another Bamboo who becomes incredibly important to Kyo as well as a young woman who plays a crucial role late in his life. Finally there is “You Will Go to the Land of the Future,” a story which delves into the history of the Japanese Bamboo. Linking back to the Chinese Cultural Revolution, it traces the tragic origins of the Bamboo’s strained relations with humans and the strict, harshly-enforced rules implemented to guard their society and existence.

A Small Charred Face opens with the brutal aftermath of the rape and murder of those close to Kyo with him facing a similar fate. It is a horrific, gut-wrenching scene, but the story that follows becomes surprisingly beautiful. Though still punctuated by moments of extraordinary violence and devastating heartbreak, A Small Charred Face is a relatively quiet and at times even contemplative work. The relationships shown are intensely intimate, with love, desire, and devotion taking on multiple, varied forms. The characters struggle and frequently fail to completely understand one another–the worldviews, life experiences, and fundamental natures of humans and Bamboo occasionally at odds–but the strength of the connections that they form regardless of and in some cases because of their differences is tremendously compelling and affecting. There’s also an inherent queerness to the stories that I loved. It’s perhaps most obvious through Yoji and Mustah’s partnership and the fact that Kyo spends a significant portion of his life presenting himself as a girl for his own safety, but many of the novel’s essential underlying themes explore found family, the need for acceptance, and what it is like in one way or another to be a hidden outsider within society. While A Small Charred Face resides firmly within the tradition of vampire fiction, Sakuraba’s contemporary take on the genre is still somewhat unusual and unexpected; I enjoyed the work immensely.

Thank you to Viz Media for providing a copy of A Small Charred Face for review.

Invaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vol. 5

by

By Takehaya and Poco. Released in Japan as “Rokujouma no Shinryakusha!?” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Warnis.

I’ve mentioned before that I enjoy Yurika’s role in the novels, being the constantly mocked and abused girl whose suffering is absolutely hilarious. That said, it’s not the sort of thing that you’re going to be able to drag out over 26+ volumes, not if you want to actually develop the characters enough to have people read 26+ volumes. So I was not particularly surprised that this volume of Rokujouma was going to try to give Yurika a bit more gravitas, or at least show us that as a magical girl she isn’t, in fact, as completely incompetent as her personality may imply. I wasn’t expecting this to turn into the best volume of the series to date, though, as Yurika’s frustrations in the first half of the book give way to a battle royale with her evil counterpart, and she finally gets her wish: her friends believe her.

And yes, I can see you raising an eyebrow at me. “Magical reset at the end?”, you say cynically. Yes, yes, magical reset at the end. But that’s not the point, the point is that Yurika is NOT affected by the magical reset, which means that the development she gets in this book will (hopefully, crosses fingers) remain going forward. A lot of Yurika’s issues are self-confidence related, which makes sense given her background which we get a bit more of here – she was an “ordinary girl” attacked for the large amount of mana she had, and her magical girl sempai pretty much sacrificed herself so that Yurika could continue to defend the world, etc. As a magical girl, Yurika is actually pretty damn powerful. It’s just the constant ridicule and denial by her friends that wear her down. But now she’s aware that, memory loss or no, in the end when her friends discover the truth they do support and defend her.

As for the harem, it’s interesting that Yurika does not particularly moon over Koutarou the way that the other girls do. There are a few hints she likes him, but for the most part she’s content to set up Harumi with him. Her attempts at helping that relationship along work much better than her attempts to get people to believe she’s a magical girl, honestly. As for Koutarou, his main issue is that he’s surrounded by a ghost, two aliens, and an “underground priestess”, and Yurika the “cosplayer” is the one normal girl in his life. Once he accepts that his harem are not going to abandon him, I think things can move forward. (As for Harumi, her main issue is that Koutarou puts distance between them that he doesn’t do with the others, and this is relatively straightforwardly fixed.) The other haremettes don’t get much to do, though the ending implies that the next book will feature Kiriha – which makes sense, she’s on the cover of this book. Gotta keep things consistent.

Rokujouma is never going to break any originality records, but it’s settled nicely into doing its thing, and the characters are growing with each book. Well worth a read for fans of battle harems.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 7

by

By Mizuho Kusanagi. Released in Japan as “Akatsuki no Yona” by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions, Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane.

Wrapping up the pirates arc, there’s a lot to love here for the Yona of the Dawn fan. Yona herself is at her most badass, saving Yun and setting off the flare, killing the main bad guy herself with an arrow, and of course getting Jaeha on their side through the sheer power of her determination and awesomeness. Yun is also very awesome, getting the crap kicked out of him and showing that he’s far more than just the party straight man. Jaeha kicks and kicks some more, and also manages to be charming and seductive in that “nothing will ever really come of it” sort of way. But I think I have to admit that after finishing the volume, there’s really just one scene that I want to read over and over again, and that’s when Yona, in the aftermath of the battle, runs into Su-Won, who is equally stunned to find that she’s not dead.

Su-Won is, of course, the villain of the piece, and it was his killing of Yona’s father that started the whole shebang. But there’s always been a sense that there’s more to him than that – he’s Yona’s childhood friend and crush, and we knew at some point he would start to show a different side. We get that here, as his amazement at Yona not being dead leads to his needing to protect her from his own aides, who would no doubt not take kindly to Yona bopping around the country with a bunch of superpowered hot guys. The series has always done a good job showing Yona the Princess contrasted with Yona the outcast and messiah, and briefly being that princess again and seeing Su-Won (and reaching for his sword to potentially kill him) sends her into a bit of a mental tailspin. Hak is, of course, there to help clean up, and there’s even some parts played for comedy (such as when she unthinkingly starts to strip), but mostly this emotional scene serves notice that we will be returning to Su-Won again, and find out why he needs to do all this.

Yona does recover, of course, and sets out again, because there is still journeying to be done. Naturally, Jaeha decides to go along with her, but I did love the goodbye that both he and Yona got from the grumpy get good-hearted pirate captain, who’s served as a mother figure for both of them. I also appreciated that the volume ended with a goofy comedy chapter – it wasn’t all that funny, being a variation on the :love potion makes you fall for whoever you see first” story, but it was just nice to see lighthearted fare again. We will no doubt begin a new arc next time, and I still maintain that this is one of the best Shojo Beat series you could be reading.